was MI queering his shoolthers. So was I. And as it is now quite divorced from baking. Fattens, kills, flays, hangs, draws, quarters and pieces. Feel his lambs! Ex! Feel how sheap! Exex! His liver too is nil, tricks trees makes nix, fairs fears stoops at nothing. And till Arthur comes againus and sen pea- trick’s he’s reformed we’ll pose him together a shot may be certain of that, fluff,